


You'll Never Know (What It Truly Feels Like)

by TheNillaWafer



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Brainwashing, Gen, Gun Violence, Heavy Angst, Near Death Experiences, Swearing, in which someone nearly dies by their boyf--i mean their best friends hand, with just a tinge of fluff at the end!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 05:10:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11525229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNillaWafer/pseuds/TheNillaWafer
Summary: It was meant to be a routine trip to Mementos. That's all. Nothing more and nothing less. But of course, nothing goes the way you want it to. Things happen outside of anyone's control. For Ryuji, it's far more than he'd ever wish to experience.(Spoiler-free, set really anywhere after the first palace)





	You'll Never Know (What It Truly Feels Like)

            A familiar sense of anxiousness arose from Ryuji; the fluttering in his stomach, the sudden twitch of his fingers. He welcomed it, this time. He'd become more accepting of this feeling every time he and the others ascended into the mystery that was the Metaverse. A was a good kind of anxious—the kind he knew came with excitement, thrills and the exhilaration of victory.

            He loved every damn second of it.

            Ryuji—no, _Skull—_ loved how everything was a reminder of their trials and their heroism against the crooked. The stretch of the leather jacket pulling around his toned shoulders, the cool, polished steel of the pipe nestled in his gloved hand, and most prominently, the tingling electric of life and power that thudded from his mask like an additional heartbeat. _I am thou… thou art I…_ The growing intensity of his Persona's power fueled him. It sent that same fluttering in his gut into overdrive with determination. With the Phantom Thieves, he felt secure. He felt powerful. He felt invincible, even. He felt—

            "Hey, uh… earth to Skull?"

            The young man suddenly blinked with embarrassment and glanced about the others. Panther rolled her vibrant blue eyes from behind her mask, looking like the true reflection of her real identity—Ann—back in the outside world, "There. He's back."

            Mona huffed and crossed his stubby little paws, "About time. It only took you, like, what, three years…?"

            "H-Hey! You know what Morg—ah, _dammit!—_ Mona! Why don't ya jus' shuddup and—!"

            "Skull." The blonde turned, caught off guard by the sudden hand on his shoulder and paired with the hard gaze that held his eyes. Joker's touch was cold, shadowy and fleeting and yet somehow it still burned down to the skin of his shoulder with a familiar warmth. From behind the mask, dark eyes flickered with the intensity of a roaring flame, eager to move, eager to strike. Skull would never, and probably _could_ never understand just how this young man before him was somehow so alike and yet oh-so different from the _Akira_ he'd come to know from the school hallways. One was hardened like steel and slick like oil while the other was a bumbling mess behind sweaty glasses and soft chuckles. Both, however, kept close to the shadows while still garnering mass attention. He'd never get it. "…Are you ready to go?"

            Still, Joker's gaze bored into his own, and that was another thing Skull _loved._ A sense of protection, and warmth, but also ravenous determination and steadfast power raced it way though the blonde's heart. He wasn't sure if it was just Joker's stare, or perhaps even Kidd's growing powers tingling him like a shock to the very ends of his nerves, but either way, he _loved it._

"Hell yeah!" Skull grinned, reaching over to grab Joker's gloved hand into his own, a steady fist clenching around the other and shake it once, a sign of support, a sign of unity. "Let's kick some ass, man!"

                       

            Mementos felt heavy and desolate, a usual feeling but now paired with the gloomy rain of the outside world, it seemed to magnify the feeling. Not that Skull or the others had noticed, as the adrenaline pumped through all their vines and heightened their powers. Face of face with a gruesome being, the thieves lashed and attacked slow and systematically, like the lapping of soft ocean waves one after the other.

            "Ugh! This one's tough!" Mona called out, watching his Persona, Zorro, fade into the bright blue flames behind him. The Shadow let out another grizzly taunt of a roar and rose to its feet, steeling itself for another attack. With grit teeth and a hardened resolve, Joker rose slender fingers to his mask, "…Behold, m—"

            "Hey, Joker!" Skull cried out, catching glances of attention and concern before Panther and Mona jumped back to battle. Joker remained captivated by his call. Skull's knuckles tightened around the steel pipe as he waved it around, a devilish grin peaking from beneath his mask, "Lemme handle it!"

            The black haired thief darted his eyes over to see Panther and her Persona, Carmen, throwing out a beautiful display of red-hot flames that danced across the room. A good hit, but nothing significant. "…I would, but physical damage isn't worth it now. We need to stick to ou—"

            "C'mon, man! We'll be drained if we keep this up!"

            Another roar, distorted words failing to make sense in any of their ears. Joker moved to turn, hearing both the voices of Panther and Mona reach him just a fraction of a second too late.

            Then came the scream.

            A deep purple light showered over him like a cloak as Joker dropped to his knees, his gloved hands violently digging through his thick, disheveled hair and clutching his skull. He withered, screaming until his lungs seemed to give out on him like a dying animal in its final moments.

            The entire ordeal was only mere seconds, but to Skull, it had felt like lifetimes had dragged on by.

            Silence returned once more. Mona and Panther kept their caution, unsure wither or not to pursue the Shadow, or help assess the dark haired fighter. Skull, however, wasted not even a second. Forget the Shadow. Forget his safety. Joker, no, _Akira_ needed help right now. He'd be _damned_ if he sat back and let this go like everything else.

            "Joker…! Joker!" Skull cried, his voice cracking slightly as he bolted over, practically sliding onto his knees to pull Joker up off the ground. His hands were shaky, fearful, but a sense of relief quickly washed over him and drowned out the knots in his gut: Joker was still breathing. "Thank God, oh thank 'effin God, dude…!" The leader fidgeted slightly in his companion's grasp, a couple deep breathes keeping him tethered to reality.

            "Skull? How's Joker?!" Panther called out, taking a dangerous moment of stepping out of the fight and over towards the panicked young punk.

            Skull nodded, a soft smile playing on his features as his glance still remained downwards, "He's alive. Thank God, amiright?"

            "We need to get Joker back on his feet! _Now_!" Mona piped up loudly, not pulling his attention away from the slingshot in his paws in the slightest. _Steady… Aim…!_

            Skull tossed a hand to wave him off, muttering something about how he wasn't a miracle worker and careful inched his way back to his feet, pulling Joker along in his arms. "C'mon man. You're okay! You're totally okay! We gotta get back and help the others!" Neither were fully back onto their feet before Joker's eyes snapped open wide and ready. Skull smirked, and was ready to chime in happily at the recovery, but he froze. Something was off. Joker's gaze seemed distant and absent in front of him, almost like he was lost and gone. Skull wrapped an arm tightly around the other's shoulder and squeezed, hoping to garner a reaction. Nothing.

            That familiar feeling of anxiousness was creeping back up into the put of his stomach again. This time, it certainly wasn't welcome.

            "…J-Joker…? Hey, hey… can you hear me?"

            The sudden movement spooked the punk, jumping with the same speed that Joker's head snapped his way. All of Skull's suspicions now turned into raw, true fear and uncertainty. Two pairs of eyes boring into each other from beyond their masks, but it wasn't like last time. Where Skull previously felt the warmth of protection and leadership, he now felt the cold ravine of hatred and disgust. Something flickered in those dark eyes of Joker's mask and it sent a dangerous chill up Skull's spine. "H-Hey, man… A-Are you—?

            Skull's head hit the ground with a hard _THUD!_ He cried a deep, guttural yelp as the pain shot across his body and hit every nerve like an electric shock when he connected.

            Panther's attention snapped right back and almost immediately she dropped her weapon, the whip slithering to the ground like a snake, racing over towards the escalating brawl. "S-Shit! What's happening?!"

            In that same moment, Mona snapped to attention as well, nearly blindsided by a sudden melee attack, "L-Lady Ann, are you okay?!" He slipped the true identity by mistake. A careless mishap that should had been prevented, but that wasn't the issue right now. All alone, Mona mustered the strength to call upon Zorro for another powerful wind attack, just enough to subdue the beastly Shadow long enough for him to glance back at the strange scene before him.

            "Oh, no…" He muttered.

            Pinned to the ground, Skull felt a leather bound hand wrap tight around his neck, violently crushing against the soft flesh. He gasped, clinging onto whatever air he could breathe while he reached up and tried to pry the hand off of him, "W-What the hell—a-ack! D-Dude! A-Ahh! Ack! S-Snap the f—Ah!" Skull's vision began to blur and his mind could merely render only basic shapes and colors. A blob of scarlet red coming into view from his left. A distant female shout— _Panther… Thank God._ Another voice even further away—"Joker… brain…wash…"

Brainwashed?

            _Holy shit…_

            That glint of malice in his eyes, that wasn't Joker. Skull _knew_ it. Skull _felt_ it. But here he laid, his senses fading into oblivion as whatever demon or beast wore the same face as he best friend tried to subdue him—no, _kill him._

            Skull cried out again, a garbled mess of strangled words caught within his throat. His vision was black, partly from it fading away and another part of Joker's deep black jacket obscuring the remains of his vision. _Help me…! Panther! Mona! Son of a bitch…!_

            It was all so sudden. The weight knocked off his jugular as the air raced into his lungs in heated gasps. Skull coughed, and suddenly it felt as if his senses were so acute, he didn't know how to react. The punk scrambled to his feet like a newborn baby deer and froze, watching Panther move trying to wrangle the leather cloaked leader into some kind of submission. He was dangerous, and she was being reckless. Skull spat and attempted to waddle his way over in assistance, "P-Panther…! Ah, be c-careful!"

            Just the one time, however, that Skull wasn't fast enough. Trying to catch his own breath, he could only watch in horror as Panther took a blow straight to the side of her head, crumpling to the ground like a rag doll. Even in the dark expanse of Mementos, Skull could see the glint of metal twirling in his hand. Joker alone was already dangerous. Joker with his gun was a nightmare. "S-Shit! Panther's 'effin down! Mona, heal her!"

            Another yelp rang out across the room, followed by the tired hiss of a feline, "Dammit, Skull, I'm _kinda busy!_ I need your help—if we can defeat the Shadow we can erase Joker's ailment—" A pause, mid-dodge of a melee strike, "—Ah, _and_ help Panther!"

            Skull nodded, "A-Alright, man! Leave it to m—A-Ah, shit!" He couldn't finish, his words hanging in the air like a preverbal cliff side as he tumbled back down to the rough ground. Joker—or whatever he was _now—_ wasted no time pressing himself back on top of the young man, pinning him to the ground helplessly. Where the gloved hand failed to bind to his neck, it made up for gripping the sleek firearm in his field of view: metallic gunmetal on crimson red gloves. "S-Son of a bitch…!" Skull spat through gritted teeth, "Pull yourself t-together, Joker! H-Holy shit!" Skull's caramel brown eyes fell transfixed on the movement of the contrasting red gloves. One hand gripped around the grip and another cocking back the barrel with a sharp, clear-cut _CLICK._

            Never once did Joker's gaze break with Skull's. The helpless young blonde continued to thrash and reach his way up trying to hinder the other even for just a _second_ longer, but no matter what, it seemed fruitless the deeper Joker's smirk widened. The cold, smooth metal suddenly pressed against his sweat-slicked temple, just above the mask, and Skull froze at the contact. Only now did he realize just how sticky he was with sweat, a few beads dripping down his forehead, gathering behind his mask and beginning to mingle with the fearful tears that pooled in the corners of his eyes, "J-Joker, _please…_ You gotta wake up…!" Skull's tone shifted absentmindedly. The panic in his voice, warping it into an almost unrecognizable plea, was real. Part of him expected, no— _hoped—_ that Joker would break into a fit of laughter was pull him to his feet, claiming it was all a prank. He'd be so pissed…

            … _But at least he'd be alive._

"Please, _please_!" Skull's voice was growing ragged now, pained with the crackling fear that laced itself into the tones. He could feel the muzzle dig deeper into the sensitive flesh above his mask as he began to quiver in absolute fear and uncertainty, tears obscuring his vision to the point where Joker and the gun became nothing more than blurs of black and slate accented with crimson. Skull clenched his eyes shut, his breathes growing more and more ragged by the second as his voice, already cracked and wavering, now by the faltering hiccups, "Ah… A-Akira… Akira, p-p-please…! P-Please don't…!" Even in the inky darkness of his vision, the blurred sight of Joker's crooked smile still etched it's way into his memory. His mind cleared up the lines and sharpened the edges into a gruesome image; a still frame of the man's black, sweat slicked hair, his hungry, unwavering eyes, his pearl-white teeth peeking from behind a slanted, dangerous smirk. Skull drew in another deep breath and bellowed with every ounce of strength he could muster, "Dammit! D-Don't _do this to m—!"_

           

            It all happened to fast. Skull's world went numb; a ringing in his ears so loud, he swore his brain rattled at the vibrations and a heavy weight baring on his chest to the point it hindered his breathing. _…I'm dead. Oh God, oh God, no. No, there… There's no way…_

_Fuck._

            Slowly, like sand in an hourglass, things from the world around him fell, slid and cascaded back into place. First it was Skull's hearing, the ringing fading out just enough to pick up on a voice. Mona? Panther? It was far too hard to tell. _Where am I? Guys? I'm sorry I screwed up. I'm so_ goddamn sorry _I screwed everything up like usual. I'm sorry I couldn't help Joker. I'm sorry…_

Next came touch, along with movement. He felt a haphazard hand brush loosely against the leather of his jacket sleeve as if by accident, a weight shifting about on his chest slowly and unsteadily. Another hand more solidly, but also more slender in connection, reaching for his shoulder, as if to bring him back to complete reality. "Sku… can yo… ear u…?"

            Finally, he felt the power strengthen enough to open his eyes. Greeted with a jarring light, for a split second, Skull truly believed he was dead—the Bright Light, as it was often spoken of—but as soon as it shone, it dulled off into the more familiar darkness of Mementos, bleak and desolate to his adjusting, puffy eyes still riddled with tears.

            Above him, Panther and Mona loomed over him in great concern, seeming to visibly relax as the sight of him reacting. Skull blinked and squinted, watching lips move to muffled words but unable to make anything concrete out of them with the pricing ringing still echoing in his drums.

            He heard something about the Shadow finally falling, that much he could make out. Something else about… about a gun? It was hard to make out what seemed like Mona's mewls of emotion even from just mere inches away. Another stir of movement from atop of him, and suddenly both faces that hovered above him pulled back in astonishment. Weakly reaching up to wipe the tears from under his mask, Skull choked back a soft sob as he watched Joker slowly collect himself and glance about. His dark eyes, still with that distant gaze, traced a path to the leather jacket below him, then to the handgun still loosely clutched in his hand, then up just to the side of Skull's puffy red eyes—the singular bullet smashed up against the cold hard concrete—before finally meeting with the terrified being below him. Analyzing that fear, that pure and absolute terror in Skull's melted caramel eyes sharpened something within Joker. His gaze, previously distant with confusion and uncertainly, now melted into his own concoction of realization, fear and guilt:

 

            He had nearly shot Skull point-blank in the head.

           

            From below, the young man—no. _No._ The _boy._ Death never discriminated, and certainly there was no point in trying to act tough now. From below, the boy shook with immense terror and threw a hand up to hide his flushed red face, choking back a loud, harsh sob. Joker cringed, dropping the gun from his grip and reaching up to lace the bleached hair though his roughly gloved fingers. He steeled his gaze right into the other's clenched eyes and spoke as clearly as he could muster, fighting back his own mangled sobs. "Look at me. _Look. At. Me."_ Slowly, Skull peeked and stole a glance from behind his gloves. Joker continued with as much grit as he could, "…I'm sorry. I'm s-so, _so… s-_ sorry, R-R-Ryuji…"

            Skull's sobs echoed into howls, shaking violently into the touch as he scrambled to grab a hold of Joker and press himself close like a blanket.

            He knew it wasn't Joker's fault. It never was. It was the Shadows, the monsters that kept him up at night and fed off his fear. Everyone knew traversing into uncharted territory would be dangerous. It was reiterated by Morgana before, at, and after every meeting. Everyone knew that this game of stealing hearts and purifying society would be deadly, life threatening and sacrificial, but it was all risks everyone was willing to accept for the greater good. That’s what heroes did, right?

            Everyone, including Skull, could sit and nod and accepts the terms and conditions that applied to this deadly, dangerous deed, but up until the moment everything changes—when a routine trip to Mementos turns your closest companion into a ravenous killing machine—when you feel the cold steel of a gun pressed to your head—when you scream and beg and plead for it to stop and you remain unheard—you'll never know. You'll never see what it's like to feel raw, unadulterated fear and suffering.

 

            You'll never know.

            But Ryuji now knows.

            And it's an experience he'd have to pray for a change of his own heart for at this point for even come close to forgetting.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written a proper fanfic in what feels like ages, so I apologize for any rusty-ness! On top of that, this is the first piece I've ever written for this beautiful series and while I'm neck-deep addicted to P5 right now, I hope I managed to nail these characterizations down rather nicely! Thanks for reading!


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